Tuesday, 23 December 2014

The Gift

An Advent Calendar of Stories

December 23 2014

The
Gift

Susan
Eames

A
goblet of Mulled Mead

Julia shivered as if
someone had just walked over her grave. She faltered and glanced around.

A
good-looking middle-aged man was lounging in one of the hotel lobby armchairs
beside the Christmas tree. He was staring at her legs. Julia was a sucker for
mature men. Unease forgotten she walked over and sat on the sofa opposite him.

'Are
you a participant in the Ghost Hunting Weekend?' she said.

He
looked over his shoulder. This action was rather foolish since he was sitting
with his back to a wall. He collected himself. 'Do I look like a fruitcake
then?'

Julia
winced.

'Sorry,’
he said. 'I suppose you're here to look for ghouls and ghosts...'

'And
things that go bump in the night,' Julia finished with a smile. 'Actually I'm
the Tour Guide.'

He
looked quizzical. 'Do you do this sort of thing regularly?'

'What,
accost strangers?'

'I
meant, do you do regular Ghost Hunts?'

'Actually,
no. I usually do Stately Homes.' She leaned forwards slightly. 'Can you keep a
secret?'

He
nodded. She glanced around before replying. 'I know it’s probably nuts, but
this castle has a solid reputation for sightings.' She sat back and crossed her
long legs. 'I'd love you to join us.'

She
paused but he offered no more. 'Well Jack; let me know if you change your
mind.'

Julia entered the
library to meet her Ghost-hunters. She saw Jack sidle in behind a large potted
fig. She hid a grin.

'Ladies
and gentleman, welcome to Castle Willoughby's Christmas Ghost Hunt.' She
consulted her notes. 'The castle was built in the fourteenth century. In
nineteen twenty-three it was converted into a hotel. Due to a long and
chequered history there are several ghosts here and sightings are regularly
reported.' She smiled winningly. 'However, the ghosts are benign, so you won't
be strangled in your beds.'

There
was a nervous group chuckle.

'For
example, the local village was almost wiped out by the great plague in 1665. It
is understood that John Fenton, the head gardener, brought the plague from
London. Every Christmas, Fenton walks the grounds in an agony of guilt.'

The
Ghost-hunters cooed softly like a flock of pigeons. Julia held up a booklet.
'Your complimentary Ghost-hunters Guide will give you more details.' She
glanced at her watch. 'We will meet at midnight for your first tour.' She
raised her hand to forestall the guests' chatter. 'May I ask you to move about
the castle quietly at night in deference to other guests?' Julia chuckled, 'and
we don't want to startle the ghosts either.'

At midnight Julia
gathered the Ghost-hunters in the hotel lobby. She noticed Jack in his
armchair, watching. The guests were wittering softly and some of the women were
giggling.

'I'm going to split you
into three groups with different routes because the castle corridors are rather
narrow,' said Julia. 'Each group will have a walkie-talkie to communicate with
me. In any event, I will circulate between the groups.' She deftly organised
them and they obediently filed off.

Julia
clipped her walkie-talkie onto her jacket lapel.

'You
really think you're going to need that?' said Jack with a glint in his eye.

'No,
but I have an open mind.'

'Yes
I think you do.' He tipped an imaginary cap at her, grinning. 'Good luck,
milady.'

Julia grinned back. Her
walkie-talkie suddenly crackled to life and they both jumped.

'Blimey,
someone's seen a ghost already,' said Julia with a snort of laughter.

She
hurried up the central stone staircase while Jack ambled behind her. Group Blue
was huddled around a large American woman. She had a strong southern accent.
'Oh my lordy, oh my lordy,' she kept repeating.

Julia
swiftly established that Amy-Sue had seen a white figure dangling from a noose.

'But there haven't been
any hangings at Castle Willoughby,' said Julia.

Julia
hid her scepticism. 'Well of course she didn't imagine it.' She gave the group
a bright smile. 'Isn't this marvellous? Ten minutes into your first tour and a
ghost has already materialised.' She patted Amy-Sue's plump shoulder.
'Marvellous. You obviously have The Gift.'

'Aaahh
do?'

'Oh
certainly you do.' Julia caught Jack's amused eye. Her lips twitched. She led
them away along the corridor.

The
guests jockeyed for position. No one wanted to be last in the line.

The
next day Julia went for a stroll to familiarise herself with the castle grounds.
She discovered Jack in the Walled Garden. 'Good morning, Jack. How beautiful
this place is, even in winter.'

Jack
looked at her appreciatively. 'Beautiful. See any ghosts last night?'

'Not
personally, but Amy-Sue did her best.'

'Let
me guess. Only she saw ghosts when no one else was looking.'

Julia
chuckled, 'but it's amazing how everyone believed her.'

'They
believe what they want to believe. You're touring the grounds tonight?'

'How
did you know?'

'I
visit every year. Willoughby is a regular haunt of mine.' He raised a roguish
eyebrow.

'Very
funny.' She wagged a finger. 'So you know it's all flummery. You've seen it all
before.'

'I
thought I had till you arrived. I don't see many like you.'

'That's
not what I meant.'

'I
know.'

'Are
you flirting with me?'

His smile was pure
mischief. 'Wrap up warmly tonight milady. It gets chilly when the ghoulies and
ghosties come out to play. Especially at Christmas.'

'Phooey.'

Julia addressed the
Ghost-hunters. 'We're going to walk the grounds tonight. Past tours have seen
the gardener, John Fenton, on the shores of Willoughby Lake and in the Walled
Garden. We'll stay in one group because it's best not to use lights.'

'No
lights?' twittered a bird-like lady.

'She
wants to scare us real good,' said one of the Americans.

'Oh,
heaven forbid,' said Julia with a smile. 'Your eyes will quickly adjust, have
no fear.'

Julia
led them down to Willoughby Lake. In the sepulchral light, the moon cast a
lambent glow across the water like spilled mercury.

There
was a sudden splash and plop out in the middle of the lake. They stared in
round-eyed silence as silver ripples lapped the shore.

'Was
it a fish? It must have been a fish,' they mumbled softly to each other.

Eerie
soughing whispered across the water. As one, the group shifted back from the
water's edge. Someone whimpered.

Then
Amy-Sue spoke, 'Oh lordy.' Her back was to the lake. 'Aahh see'd him.'

The
group turned around. 'Who?' they said.

Amy-Sue
faced them, chins trembling. 'John Fenton.'

'How
does she know it was him?' they asked each other. 'How do you know it was him?'
they asked Amy-Sue.

They
fell silent, all eyes focussed on her.

'He
was pulling a… a plough.' She gave a solemn nod.

The
mood broke. Julia converted her grunt of laughter into a cough.

'Must
be a big strong feller if he don't need a horse to pull his plough,' someone
quipped.

All
eyes swivelled to Julia. 'I daresay they used all kinds of implements in those
days,' Julia improvised. 'Well spotted, Amy-Sue. Marvellous. Shall we move on
to the Walled Garden?'

Julia
split the group up to fan out around the garden. They had barely started their
explorations when three of them collided in the dark and tipped straight into
the azaleas. Julia heard an enraged oath behind her and spun around. Jack was
striding towards the hapless guests as they struggled to extricate themselves.

'Jack?
What are you doing out here?' Julia blocked his path.

'I'm
putting a stop to this nonsense before they wreck my garden.' Jack lifted his
arms and began to levitate. He rose several feet and floated towards the
ruckus. Julia was rooted to the spot, her mouth agape. She was dimly aware of
startled screams.

The following morning
Jack was seated in his usual place beside the Christmas tree when Julia stormed
up. She plonked down on the sofa and glared at him. 'All right clever clogs.
How did you do it?'

'Look
I had to get those fruitcakes out of my garden.'

'Oh
it’s your garden now, is it?'

Jack
bowed his head. 'John Fenton at your service, milady.'

'Really?
I thought your name was Jack.'

'Jack
has been a nickname for John for hundreds of years you know. And by the way, I
didn't bring the plague to the castle and I don't wander around in an agony of
guilt.'

Julia
wasn't listening. 'I can't believe I've been flirting with you all weekend!'

'The
attraction was mutual, Julia.'

'Hah!
You don't even talk like someone from the Middle Ages.'

'Why
would I after all these years?'

'You're
nothing but a fake.'

'I'm
not, you know.'

'Really?'
She leaned forwards to prod his hand. Her finger passed straight through him
and connected with the armchair. For a split second she froze. Then she pulled
back slowly, holding her finger in front of her as if it didn't belong.

'You've
gone white as a ghost,' said Jack.

'Very
funny, Mr Fenton.'

'I
do my best, milady.' He tipped an imaginary cap at her, and then cocked his
head. 'You're the one with The Gift, Julia, not your silly Amy-Sue.' Jack
turned translucent.

Julia could see the
Christmas tree straight through him.

'You’ve
been a surprise and a pleasure, Julia. Happy Christmas. '

He
gradually faded out until, like the Cheshire Cat, all that was left was his
roguish smile. Then that too vanished.

Julia
leaned back in the sofa staring at the vacant armchair. 'Well, aahh'll be,' she
said.

About the Author

Susan Eames left England twenty-five years ago to explore
the world and dive its oceans. She has had travel articles and short fiction
published on three continents including several stories in The Best of CaféLit 3 Anthology.

After seven fascinating years in Fiji, Susan is moving to
the Republic of Ireland.